


Ride along, cowboy

by Professor_Clayton



Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, F/M, Making Friends, Pre-Moon gate accident, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23874472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Clayton/pseuds/Professor_Clayton
Summary: A young man reconsiders his choices, rethinks his uncertain future and makes a friend
Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Faye Valentine
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On this day, 21 years ago, the final episode of Cowboy Bebop aired so I thought this would be a good time to post this little AU fic I wrote in 2018. I fixed everything I could. The setting you need to have in mind: Its the year 2032, before the moon gate accident. A young Spike Spiegel is one day away from his 18th birthday, one day from joining the Red Dragon Syndicate. In this AU him and Faye are about the same age and they both lived rather normal lifes.  
> Enjoy!

He woke up that morning feeling more tired than when he went to sleep in the evening. Something roughly pulled him from his dreamless sleep. His eyelids flew open, a sharp breath slipped past his lips. His back now up straight, his chest bared, his room cold. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. They were still rather short from their recent cut. It wouldn’t matter tomorrow. He’d look different. He’d be different. He would have to be. That day was his last as a carefree youth, before the clock struck midnight and he would be forced to act like an adult. Albeit a corrupt one. He never would have imagined he’d end up in a syndicate but beggars ain’t choosers. He owed Mao a greater deal than he could ever imagine to pay so he had to offer his strength and body instead. After his parents disappearance confusion and loneliness were his only companions. Life on earth was calm compared to what he saw on the news. New colonies popped up all over the galaxy, oxygen and resources on earth had long become too little. The wealthiest fled first. A burning uncertainty rose in his guts. His name, his looks, his safety and identity – all gone with the next sunrise. He swung his long legs over the edge of his bed, pulled off his blanket and cringed as the chilling air collided with his sleep heated skin.

He sighed in annoyance and stood up. His joints started popping and cracking into place. To him, it was normal. Considering his height, the way he grew too quickly in the past year. He dragged himself through the small hallway into his equally small bathroom. He grimaced at the mirror upon seeing his face. 24 hours to go. Having finished his business, washed his hands and face, he made his way to the kitchen. The tiles were ice against his feet. He already pictured his toast, nice and crisp, the butter on top melting from the heat of the bread radiating. He would grab his beloved strawberry jam from the fridge, the crunchy peanut butter from the shelf and it would all combine into the perfect breakfast. But to his surprise there was no toast. He blinked in confusion. He quickly opened the fridge. Barely any butter, no jam. It seemed he put the empty glass back. He opened the cupboard, nothing in there except for his trusty saltshaker. He sighed loudly and slowly let himself sink down onto his warn down kitchen chair. The old wood squeaked under his weight. From tomorrow onwards he would make good money, dine in fancy restaurants every evening. Hot juicy steaks, fine red wines in delicate glasses. His thoughts trailed off as his thin fingers grabbed a box of cigarettes lying on the counter. When he opened it his lips pulled down into a straight line. Only one left. He’d have to go out to buy a new pack.

The blinds were still closed, the sunlight barely passing through them, her shine still too subtle. He bought two packs, just in case. He was walking towards the city centre. He glanced up at the sky, mindlessly marching on. Thinking back, he had never been a mean person. He had stolen before, gotten into a few fights but those were justified, righteous. His intentions have been clean and clear for as long as he could remember. Warm summer breeze blew into his face, he had finally reached the harbour. Despite its age, its size was still impressive. Sprinkled around were grassy area. Small and large flowers alike swayed in the wind. Their delicate stems performed an intricate dance, the winds caressing making them shiver and twist, waving him goodbye. He was mesmerized. Despite himself having never been the romantic type. He picked a flower, smelled its blooming beauty. The whole situation made him sentimental. It felt like finality. The smell was sweet and light, it reminded him of a calm, good life. She walked the waterline, her schoolbag tugged at her arm. She carried it with her left hand. Besides the workers on the arriving and departing ships, she was usually the only one around here. The gentle movement of the waves and the distant screams of seagulls calmed her. But he stood out like a sore thumb. This lanky, dark-haired, flower sniffing stranger bathing in the warmth of the sun and its reflection on the waters turquoise surface. He looked tense. Was he shaking? The sound of approaching steps pulled him out of his inner peace. He slowly lowered his arm and glanced over to where the intrusion was coming from. His heart skipped a beat. Her shoulder length, bob-cut violet framed her fair face perfectly, her emerald green eyes seemed to sparkle but her brows were furrowed. Her dark pink lips were pulled into a small “o”. She seemed upset, confused at least. He quickly looked away again, realizing how weird this must be for her. He placed the flower behind his ear and lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag, exhaling deeply. She stopped dead in her tracks, starred at him, probably looking like a fish. Smoke rose from his hand, she could see it dancing up towards the sky, the sun breaking through it easily. By the time the cigarettes cherry had wandered all the way down to the filter, he heard footsteps again. Had he scared her away? He threw the butt to the ground, followed its fall with his eyes when he saw a pair of shiny sleek shoes pop into his field of vision.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Ah, her voice was so light and cheerful. He trailed his eyes from her shoes, up her legs, clinging to her dark blue skirt for a moment, up her white blouse to her face. A beaming smile on her lips. His expressions were not under his control anymore, he was flashing her a smile.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?” She said, adverting her gaze and watching the waves instead.

"I usually don’t come out before sundown.” He joked. It wasn’t funny, he knew.

But there it was, a giggle.

She had just giggled at his remark. His heart skipped multiple beats, he was glad it hadn’t completely stopped yet. They shared a bit of silence, had some more pleasant small talk. They ended up sitting on the edge together, feet dangling above the splashing waves. The girl shared her lunch with him after he told her about the dilemma that lead him there in the first place. She was kind and bubbly, skipping math class at the moment. After about an hour and a half she got up and grabbed her bag, thanked him for the nice conversation. She was a cheerleader and P.E. lessons were next on her schedule. She wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“So, same time tomorrow?” She asked and brushed a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. Without giving it any thought he nodded.

“Great!! I’ll see you around!”

She chirped happily and ran off, waving to him before she went out of sight.

The summer wind carried her scent.

She smelled sweet and light, of an exciting, good life.

He hadn’t even asked her name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What path did our protagonist choose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter only one person asked for!  
> I plan on turning this into a "choose your story" deal where there will be alternative endings. Stay tuned

_5 years later_

He quickly grew into his new identity and with each passing day, the persona materialized. He was Spike Spiegel now, born to native Martians, hence his greenish hair. They had his right eye replaced and switched out his morals. The angsty teen grew into a Jericho wilding “executive” or as they called it, an enforcer.

Scars and cuts adorned his body, his biggest pride was a deep purple line down the entirety of his torso. Spike earned it in a duel with his partner, Vicious. The two of them met in the dojo.

His sharp tongue earned him sharp cuts, beaten square and fair. After the fight however they discovered similar views and ideals.

Spiegel wound himself on a mission that night, dressed in a much finer attire than he was accustomed with. He had a faux invitation between his fingers, his Jericho under his belt and three targets on his list. An earth oil baron, his gold-digging wife and their daughter. Their credits did not hold up and they could not pay the protection fee anymore.

The rented limousine sufficed, covered him well as he entered the casino. Mars’ heat was quickly blown away by the ac of the old building. Chandeliers shimmered above him, their light reflecting off the marble floors and the mirror walls. His high-shine shoes clicked on the ground, each step a count closer to zero.

Each step another tick-tack on their clock. His amber eyes scanned the halls, scattered between poker tables and machines stood old money, old blood and young blood alike. He spotted his targets at the bar, two of them anyhow.

A tap on his watch and his fellow hitman stormed the building, bullets flew within seconds, screams and blood gurgled from the throats of those hit. Spike lit himself a cigarette, the pair trying to run landed ungracefully, he rated it a 4 despite their efforts. Red holes painted the back of their heads.

He had to find their daughter. They did a good job of keeping her out of the public eye. No picture. No birth date. Just her name. Faye.

The team had cleared out the entirety of the grand hall, they checked the invitations of those sprawled out, checking the names off their hit lists as if it were bingo. But Miss Faye Bernsten was nowhere to be found. He discarded his cigarette butt on the red carpet and felt the need to release some pressure.

Down the dark wooden planks, he found the toilettes pleasantly clean, golden handles and tabs. The commotion in the mansion died down quickly, safe for a sobbing that rang to his ears. Found you. He knocked on the door leading to the women’s bathroom. He thought himself a comedian sometimes. “May I enter?” He cocked his gun, it was locked and loaded now.

His soles met the solid wood unkindly, a dramatic and impactful entrance. Three stalls lined neatly. Her shadow gave her away and a twisted grin flashed on his lips. “Come on princess. You knew this had to happen. Daddy couldn’t pay anymore so now you’ll have to do.”

Spike didn’t _hate_ the rich. Hate was such a strong word. But he did believe the world would be a better place without them. He heard her breath hitch between sobs. It gave him a real kick. Sometimes he hoped the elite would choke on their wealth like that. If he was forced to cannibalize, he would surely eat the rich.

His slender fingers grasped the handle of the second stall. The door flew open.

His last target, the only missing step to his next paycheck. Just another bullet wasted. The assassin was not prepared for the purple. The amethyst violet of her silky hair and the sweet smell of her fear mixed with expensive perfume. Her emerald eyes were wide and tear-filled as they stared up the barrel of his gun. Her thin, ruby lips trembled. Her tongue in a knot. Her pale skin glistened like wet opal beneath the warm white toilet lights. Peridot green gown clinging to her form.

His brown eyes were dirt, the silk on his body no more than plain linen and cigarette smoke. Cheap ideas held him together. Rust-colored blood stuck to his hands, coal-black shoes and ash-grey eye bags wore heavy on him. His ratty face morphed into an expression of uncertainty, his unstable voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

“Faye?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  
> I'm trying to find my style still, but I do not know how to write dynamic action scenes.  
> I will come back to correct this and I might just add more chapters, depending on when motivation strikes.
> 
> This chapter is so short. Damn.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Right now this is a one-shot but maybe I'll write a second chapter sometime.  
> Please let me know what you thought, any ideas or critique you may have.


End file.
